A Waiting Game in Foxborough

Waiting for the game to start, and I may as well confess that I've had frissons of nervousness all week. Bill Bellicek, Tom Brady, et. al. How will it play out? Suspense, conflict, good characters, hey, this sounds like a novel. Maybe that's why it's so interesting. The characters are tough, but are they flawed? Flawed enough? I like their steely determination, the grittiness of it all. We don't usually watch the x+1 hours of pre-game hype. Maybe I'll allow myself an hour. What the hell?

Beautiful weather in the Boston area--they could be playing here today. I took a walk and found perfect football weather--sunny, cool, a bit of a breeze but pleasant.

The bean dip is ready. I mixed some of the bought-by-mistake bean salsa into the real bean dip, and got out the chips. S.O. pronounced it edible. We're going with the chicken and pasta casserole in a mornay sauce with baked crumbs on top. The Domino ad was so cool and showed the Dominos a couple miles from here--we recognized the intersection. Even the pizza looked good, but I usually make my own.

Blueberry pancakes this morning made with sour 2% milk and diet Bisquick, the only diet fare we'll see today. I bought some Schaller and Weber double-smoked bacon--to die for. It's slab bacon, which I had been having trouble finding. Always a good feeling to use up something like soured milk without pouring it down the sink. We put Apricot syrup from the Apricot King (grown in the flavor zone) on the pancakes. Their products are so delicious. http://www.apricotking.com/.

The New York Times Book Review was thick today, and I haven't finished reading it yet, what with walking and cooking and je ne sais quoi. So my analysis will come later this week.

I'm preparing to do the dreaded Tax Workbook the accountant sends us every year. Takes about 6-8 hours to get everything entered. I keep all the receipts together all year, but somehow this is heavy duty paper work which I hate. They don't call it paper work for nothin.'

This week we're venturing forth to the new Opera House to see My Fair Lady. We were in the Opera House years ago when it was literally falling apart, but one could see intimations of the glory days, and now that's it's been rehabbed, I'm curious to see if it captures the former grandeur.

I have to come up with a speech about writing for Toastmasters. I'm thinking of talking about characters and where they come from and how real they become to the author. Should be fun, maybe even edifying.

Yesterday the Globe had an article about all the glitzy parties in Arizona, pre-game parties. Some people don't even go to the game, they just fly down, party and come home before the game. The number of private jets flying into the area is unbelievable. I've been flying into Sky Harbor since there was just one terminal. One always gasps at the huge Valley of the Sun and peers down to see the Camelback, and the plane makes a huge loop and comes in and lands heading East. You can see a gazillion swimming pools, and the baked area of the valley and the green of the city--all that water. In a sense, it always feels like coming home, because I visited there so often over the years. I hope my favorite Mexican Restaurant, Such Is Life, is benefiting from the hoopla. Well, enough for today.

So, let's hear it for the Patriots!

It's Fun to Fondue

It's fun to fondue, or so proclaims an old cookbook. We discovered the ancient fondue pot on a shelf in the basement. Thought I sold it before the last move. So, we said, why not?

Aside from the calories and cholesterol, a reason why not may be the price of things. Holey moley, the cheese cost over $11.00. Add the wine and a decent baguette and it's not a cheap dish. Nonetheless.

I found two unused fondue works in the sideboard, and sterno in the garage with the garden stuff. Don't ask.

It wasn't any work at all. I think fondue maybe even predates the food processor, which makes grating the cheese a whiz. (Pun alert!) We bought a loaf of good bread and in no time at all we had fondue. It's still tasty, kind of cheesey and boozy and yeasty, altogether satisfying.

About a million years ago, Chicago had a restaurant called Geja's that served only fondue. And they had chocolate fondue for dessert and a fondue bourgignon for the people who weren't deeply into cheese. It was a fantastic restaurant, all cozy and fun, and even a million years ago they socked you pretty good for the fondue. But what a place!

If you cook it yourself, the pot is a mess to clean up, so what? Bet I won't be raiding the fridge at ten p.m.

Tomorrow, I'm using the rest of the gruyere in a chicken pasta dish, another non-diet dish. Phooey. Found the bean dip at Stop 'n Stop, just like the lady said. Noticed it didn't expire until late 2009 so I bought two cans. Bring on the Patriots!

Come tomorrow, we'll be ready.

Grapeshot

ABNA Hell

No email from Amazon. Most, but not all, got theirs yesterday, and my mailbox and spambox wer empty. Still empty. This really sucks. Everyone who was not notified has morale in the toilet.

This should not have been a surprise, because many never heard from Amazon as to whether their entries had been accepted or not. I really had high hopes for World of Mirrors. First the Gather SNAFU which was mostly a popularity contest, now the ABNA SNAFU which is just a SNAFU.

God knows, I worked in IT for a donkey's age and know how these things happen. Actually, under my watch they happened damned seldom and when they did they were fixed ASAP. A few days ago I was actually recalling my days in IT, or trying to recall them, because this was such a big part of my life and I can't recall anymore why is was so important to work a gazillion hours a week. It was like I wore blinders for twenty years.

Writing is for those with nerves of steel and guts of granite, egos the size of Everest and the eye always, always on the prize.

Screw it. I'm working on my California book and actually wrote a few pages last night. Feeling my way into it. Kind of fun. Nice to be writing again, even if no one will ever read it.

Snow still beautiful on the trees. We were in Wellesley this morning and took a stroll through the new Roche Bros. Holy Christmas! What a fancy store! Takes ones breath away. One's wallet, too. I paid $4.99 for some bean dip. Couldn't find the $1.99 that used to come in a can in the potato chip aisle.

Every kind of fancy pesto and gourmet goodies known to shopper. They had smoked trout, which I usually despair of finding anywhere. But no more doughnuts. We asked. Leave it to me to ask for the one old thing that is no longer carried. I am starting to feel like that that old doughnut nobody wants. Sigh.

Well, off to do more writing chores. I didn't stop writing. Probably couldn't if I wanted to. Blogging away, starting a new novel, working on a short story.

Imagine me waving my middle finger at the ABNA contest. Sticking out tongue! Making crazy faces involving crossed eyes. Shouting you-know-what! You know what? Shame on you. This is a clean blog.

Grrrrapeshot, sucking it up as is her wont